So call me unAustralian for choosing to skip the second half of my beloved Hawks thrashing the shit out of the Swans. After all I am a bloody nervous football watcher. It was worth it...for it was the last real chance I had to get some fishing in before my two weeks off came to a sad conclusion and back to the drudgery of paid employment. Headed to my local marina, checked  out the conditions (good) and joined the other fishos. Probably chose the most shittiest spot for rock hopping and trying to get fish up (as I was to find out) seeing as everyone else had the more accesible spots.

Anyway, I threw out a selection of mulies and hezza fillets as bait and was getting harrassed by pickers, which I assumed to be those bloody Port Jackson sharks. After an hour or so I finally get something; a snook whose eyes were bigger than its stomach. It's dispatched into the esky as fresh bait. Was starting to get the feeling that tonight was going to be a bust but decided to put down the 12 footer and grab my 8ft spinning combo rigged with a running star sinker, 20lb braid and a single 4/0 hook and try and catch the snook that was smashing the bait.

A few minutes in I hook onto something that was a bit feistier than a snook and got it to the surface and watched it thrash around as I jockied for position but the bastard got washed into the rocks and then *ping*, half the leader is busted off. Undeterred I rig up again and this time I reach into my burley bucket and use a few pieces of smelly yellow tails. I get a sudden strike but nothing turns up and as it quietens down, I go for the 'hail mary' cast. It's time to head home when I feel a few shy little taps but it turns out anything but shy as it's firmly hooked and begins making the reel sing. Now here comes the tricky bit. There is no way to actually get down to the water ledge as the rocks are huge and awkward and worst of all, slippery. I had no gaff or net. So here I am, dancing around, rod in one hand and my other hand acting as balance as I try and get this sucker in, as it utilizes the wash to good effect and peels off line as soon as I get it near to the surface. I was half thinking it was a stingray as there were no real head shakes or anything. I've bounced to my left and tried to get in as close as possible and this thing has been washed in between the bloody rocks!

Here I am, dancing around like a cat on a hot tin roof as I try and spy it with the flash light on my work phone (which is far better than the shitty head light attached to my noggin) when I see some reflection. Then i see a head looking straight up and thought "Nahhhhhhhhhhhh can't be!'. Yet as I try and get a closer look, I slip and in the process (as I found out a little later) snap the end of my rod However I regain my footing (cursing my stupidity and recklessness) place the rod down and begin hauling it up by hand when......

You could've knocked me down with a feather. It was my first ever LB snapper!! This thing is utterly knackered as I safely land it on the rocks. I clutch it tightly under my arm, broken rod in the other and proceed to merrily dance to my gear, happy as a pig in mud and then back to the car. Here i can see that the tip of the rod, with three of the guides, snapped clean off (FAAAAACK) and my tape measure also met it's death in between the rocks. Measured it up at 63 cm. Now, with the tax money we recently recieved all i have to do is convince the missus to hand some over for a new rod....and a landing net as well..... I am sure she will understand, particularly if I catch a snapper every now and then.

Oh yeah......CARNA HAWKS!!!

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